


Reasons the spider's never caught.

by song_of_the_drums



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 12:32:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3381647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/song_of_the_drums/pseuds/song_of_the_drums
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a reason Jame Moriarty is the one doing the hostage taking, not the other way around. After all, what good is a knight in shining armor when you have a trained Tiger?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reasons the spider's never caught.

**Author's Note:**

> Still testing things out. I edited this one, I didn't like the way it was so choppy before. Tell me what you think of the updated version, yes?

James Moriarty shook his head, a sneer present, drawing his expression into a mocking criticism. The man, filthy coward and petty thug, holding him 'hostage' glanced over, each time with increasing fervor. James could not help the laugh that bubbled in his chest, a contemptuous sound that spilled out. The man holding James flinched, before hardening his expression. He would not be intimidated by this pathetic excuse for a criminal mastermind. After all, it hadn't taken much to kidnap him. The man jerked a thumb at the bound Irish man, and a bloke whom looked like he'd be called tiny because of it's direct contradiction stepped up. The punch was hard, fast. it was enough that James' laughter broke into a hacking caw. The second blow landed on his face, splitting his lip easily. He licked at the wound, tongue quick, darting, tasting the blood and the air. “You shouldn’t have done that.” He sputtered, between rough coughs and bitter laughter. He spat blood at the boots of his captor, earning himself another blow. it sunk home, causing a wheezing element to be added to his breathing. He shook his head, eyes half shut in contempt. “You  _really_  shouldn’t have done that.”  Perhaps the whispered words of caution when facing the great spider were to be heeded after all, James' captor thought.

The radio crackled… once…. Twice…

“Boss! He's-fuck!- He's here.” Came blaring through the radio, followed by a muted gunshot. "who's here?" James' captor asked, trying to connect with someone, anyone, on the radio. James' laughter only grew. A red alert went up all across the building, guards jumpy, hesitant of the stories. Not like it would do them any good anyways.

Level by level fell, the guards dropping like flies.

James’ captor turned to him, panic finally showing in his eyes. “What the hell is happening, Moriarty?” The man demanded, looming over the Irish man.

“Retribution.”

The door to the room banged open, gunshots instantly following. Dust settled, and no one was int he doorway. One long moment, breaths held, eyes flicking over available hiding spaces, then, a shadow stepped up through the door. In seconds several of the men guarding James and his captor were dead, riddled with holes. The shadow disappeared again before anyone could fire a shot, only to reappear with another volley of bullets. James grinned, watching his captor's sudden fear.

  
Before him stood a bloody silhouette. Sebastian Moran, covered in other men’s blood, a pistol in hand. It was the last image to be had in the mind of the man foolish enough to dare and even get near James Moriarty. a single bullet pierced his skull, and James couldn’t help the hacking laugh as the other’ body fell.

Sebastian stepped forward, hastily undoing James’ bonds. “Sorry I’m late, Love. Got held up in traffic.” He joked, placing a kiss on James’s forehead. He was careful to keep his blood stained shirt and skin away from the still relatively pristine suit of his boss. "took you long enough." James rolled his eyes, standing and brushing himself off. He reached out, grasping the collar of Sebastian's shirt, pulling him down and kissing him, hard. their lips met hard, a bruising, satisfying kiss. "thanks for the rescue, Tiger." 

There’s a reason James Moriarty isn’t the one being held hostage.


End file.
